


Sight for Sore Eyes

by writewild



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Photographer, Alternate Universe - Writer, I hope this is fluff enough for u guys, M/M, at least it's a cute concept, thank u mika for the au this ones for u, this is so Aesthetic and Hipster I wanna die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-11 01:42:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7870630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writewild/pseuds/writewild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Photographer!Lance's deadline for the magazine he works on the side for is coming up really soon, and has to search last-minute photo opportunities soon. One boy catches his eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Shit,” Lance muttered as he was checking his email on his phone. He had gotten a message from the editor of the online magazine he worked on the side for, reminding him he needed to submit pictures soon. Lance groaned, setting his phone down before pressing his face into his pillow.

When his laziness wore off, Lance decided to roll out of bed and get ready. It was almost ten in the morning now, so downtown must’ve been buzzing already this Saturday morning.

Half an hour had passed, and Lance was ready to go, sporting a blue flannel and dark wash jeans. He looked briefly in the mirror, noting his bed hair, but he shrugged. Decent enough, he supposed. He grabbed the camera off his nightstand, hanging it around his neck, and then his keys, leaving his apartment.

Lance lived so close downtown, he didn’t have to take his car. In ten short minutes, he arrived downtown, not minding the walk at all. It was a nice day out. Autumn was starting very soon, which excited Lance. It brought such warm muted colors into his photos, and even though it was very typical, he enjoyed taking aesthetically pleasant pictures of his friends in large cardigans, drinking their autumn-themed Starbucks drinks.

He had his camera in his hands now, at the ready. His eyes jumped to and from every movement, trying to search for a perfect opportunity, but nothing really stood out to him yet.

After a few more minutes of walking, Lance felt his stomach rumble in hunger, and he realized he hadn’t eaten breakfast yet. He let go of his camera so it dangled against his torso, pausing at the side of the sidewalk, then reached into his back pocket for his wallet.

Twelve bucks and thirty-seven cents. Not too bad. He could get the strawberry iced tea he always got and maybe a cinnamon roll.

Lance walked across the street to the café he normally went to. But before he walked in, he couldn’t help but notice a boy around his age, sitting at one of the tables outside. He was writing in a journal, and the bagel he had next to him had barely been touched, one mere bite taken from it, though the drink he ordered had been emptied.

The end of a pen was held to the boy’s mouth, his eyebrows furrowed as he was deep in thought. His eyes were so dark they seemed coal black—hidden behind wire-rimmed glasses—and so was his hair, thick and everywhere. It was like… a mullet. A mullet, really? In 2016? On a teenage boy?

It did somehow suit him well, though.

He was wearing a black v-neck and dark jean shorts, a red flannel tied around his waist. _Not bad, mullet boy_ , Lance thought. On both hands he wore fingerless gloves, which Lance believed was very out-of-place on his ensemble, but it was… interesting. And suit him just as much as the mullet did.

Lance looked around casually, as he normally did when he was about to take a photo of someone in public without their knowledge. He moved behind a large plant beside the doorway of the café, bending a little through the leaves so they weren’t in the way of his shot. He prayed the cars and background noise of people talking outside and in the café were loud enough to conceal the sound of his camera shutter.

A click later, and Lance looked down at his camera screen, very pleased with the photo. He liked the way this boy looked, hunched over his journal at this small café table. In disappointment, Lance realized the boy looked way too timid and angsty to agree being a model for regular photoshoots. Well. Guess he’ll have to savor these few shots before he gets his breakfast.

Lance went to lift his camera through the leaves of the plant again when he realized the boy was looking at him. Straight at the camera lens.

Lance stood straight up, letting his camera fall against his stomach. The boy was still looking at him, so he pressed his lips into an awkward line, hands behind his back as he tried to rush into the café, but the boy spoke to him.

“Hey, you can’t just leave,” mullet boy said, his tone obvious with irritation. “Did you just take a picture of me?”

“Um.” Lance turned around, quickly pushing his arm through his camera strap so he could push his camera to his side instead of having it dangle right in front of the boy. “Well, yeah. You were a really good shot, so I took the opportunity.”

As mullet boy looked at Lance, the photographer realized that his eyes weren’t coal black after all.

"Your eyes,” Lance said softly, squinting and leaning forward to get a better look. One of mullet boy’s eyebrows raised as he leaned back in his chair. "They're... violet?”

Lance thought he saw the boy blush slightly, but the boy raised his fist to his face, letting his head rest there when Lance pulled back. “Yeah, they are.”

“I’ve never seen violet eyes on anyone,” Lance told him, genuinely perplexed. “Huh.”

“Well, now you have,” the boy said, offering a small smile. It was sweet and soft—something Lance didn’t expect from somebody made up of such fine and sharp edges. “You can sit down, by the way. I’m Keith.” Lance reluctantly took a seat and watched as Keith took the glasses from his face, pushing them up so they rested on the top of his head. You could barely see them now, hidden by all the hair he had.

“Lance,” Lance introduced, nodding and holding out his hand for Keith to shake. Keith looked at the photographer’s hand for a moment, confused, but then took it, shaking it.

“What’re you doing taking pictures of strangers, Lance?” Keith asked, pulling his hand back. He had shut his journal, leaning over the table with his arms so they covered it. Lance noticed the action, but tried to not to make it obvious by keeping eye contact with Keith. Lance was already a curious kind of guy, but unfortunately he felt more curious about the journal now than he naturally was.

“I’m in a magazine,” Lance explained, lifting his camera and placing it on the table. “I’m one of the photographers for it.”

Keith’s eyes seemed to light up at this; he was interested. “Really? What kind of magazine?”

“Just an online one I submit to in my free time,” Lance said, shrugging. “No biggie.”

Keith’s eyes fell to Lance’s camera. “Can I see that picture you took of me?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

Lance let his eyes wander to Keith’s folded arms, covering his journal. “Can ya tell me about your journal, there? Do you write?”

Keith’s mouth seemed to form a slight pout and he slowly dragged the journal from the table down into his lap. “You first,” he said, challenging Lance.

Lance rolled his eyes, taking his camera into his hands and turning it on. He noticed out of the corner of his eye that Keith had moved closer, dragging his chair to the right of Lance instead of staying across from him.

“Here,” Lance said, tilting his camera so the screen was visible to Keith. “I don’t care if you don’t like it. I wanna submit it.”

“Submit it?” Keith said, laughing softly under his breath. “It’s so… plain.” Lance was about to make a sarcastic comment, but glanced at Keith and realized he had put his hair up in a ponytail, revealing two piercings on his left ear. His glasses were back on his face as well as he observed the photo Lance had taken of him.

Lance’s face warmed. The mullet suited him, alright, but he just looked so good with his hair up that Lance’s fingers itched to take more photos of Keith. “You good at acting natural, even when a camera’s on you?” Lance asked him.

“W-What?” Keith stuttered.

“I wanna take more pictures of you,” Lance said, stating as if it was obvious. “You up to it?”

A pinkish hue crept up through Keith’s cheeks, and Lance smirked slightly. “Um, I don’t know…”

“You’ll be fine,” Lance said, waving a hand to lighten the mood. “It’s not like I’m filming you. It’s just a picture.”

“Okay, I guess?” Keith reached to push his glasses up into his hair again and to put his hair down, but Lance made several quick (and strange, for that matter) sounds of protest. Keith froze in place, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

“Keep. The. Ponytail,” Lance said urgently, reaching out and taking Keith’s wrist. He set it down on the table. “And the glasses. You look good, trust me.”

“I look… good?” Keith’s face flared. “I—“

Lance made a few obnoxious shushing noises, and Keith seemingly seemed to deflate, his words dissolving. “Just let me do my thing, alright?” Lance said, backing up for some space to take the photos. “I think you’ll like what I do with a camera on you.” Keith looked exasperated, and this put a smile on Lance’s face. “Actually, keep that expression. But instead direct it towards your journal instead of me.”

Keith sighed, taking the journal from his lap and opening it to set it down onto the table. He set his pen in his hand as well, wondering how he let a stranger mix him up into this situation.

Before he even realized, a few photos were taken already, the camera clicking once, twice, and a third time. Keith glanced up the Lance for one second, not knowing how else to position himself.

“Perfect,” he heard Lance murmur under his breath. Keith noticed that one side of Lance’s blue flannel was slipping down his arm, revealing freckled skin on his shoulder and outer forearm. His arm sloped down slightly in the right places, nice and slender, the small dots looking like flecks of brown paint. He’d never seen freckles on a Hispanic person before. At least, he thought Lance was Hispanic. His dark honey-colored skin seemed to give it away.

Lance lowered his camera from his face, which snapped Keith out of staring at him. God, he caught that all on his camera. Dumb move.

Lance grinned down at his camera, not acknowledging that Keith had been staring. Huh. Guess he didn’t notice.

“What were you staring at?” Lance asked, looking behind him for a moment to scan everything there. “Good photos, by the way. The mag’s gonna love it.”

“Oh,” Keith said, caught off guard. So he did see. “Nothing, just—like—a bug. There was a bug on your shoulder.”

Lance jerked away from the spot he was standing in, looking around to see if there were any bugs around. “What the hell—why didn’t you say anything?” Lance huffed, sitting down in his chair again.

Keith shrugged, then leaned forward to see the pictures on Lance’s camera screen. Lance switched the camera off.

Keith was about to protest when Lance interrupted him with obnoxious shushing again. “We had a deal and everything, pretty boy,” Lance said, setting his camera down and propping his head up on one of his hands. “Tell me about your journal-thing now. You write?”

 _Pretty boy?_ Keith began to feel flustered, but prayed Lance couldn’t tell too easily. “Yeah, I guess,” he said.

“What do you write?”

“Poetry. Sometimes horror stories,” Keith responded. “Um…”

“So, like, modern-day Edgar Allan Poe?” Lance said slyly, then he burst into laughter seconds later.

Keith glowered at Lance, crossing his arms.

Lance was still laughing, his face turning a deep reddish at the cheeks and near his forehead. Keith’s mouth eventually turned up in a smile as he watched Lance laugh at his own joke. This was becoming the strangest, but most pleasant encounter he’d made before.

“I’m not sorry about that joke,” Lance said when he’d finished a moment later. “Just letting you know.”

“It was pretty good, actually,” Keith said, laughing softly. “Your face is red.”

“So are your cheeks,” Lance replied, one corner of his mouth upturned. He could tell that Keith didn’t know what to say after that, so he switched the subject. “Would you ever wanna submit to a magazine?”

“Maybe,” Keith said. “I don’t know if my writing’s for magazines.”

“Who cares?” Lance said encouragingly, waving a hand. “Submit your best work. It could be cool.”

“I’ll see,” Keith said, nodding once.

Lance took out his wallet, opening it and taking out a piece of paper. It looked like a receipt. He took the pen from Keith’s hand, his fingers warm as they brushed against the other boy’s skin lightly.

“Here,” he said, removing the pen cap with his mouth, “is my number.” He scribbled down a group of numbers on the small piece of paper, folding it and sliding it over to Keith. Lance capped the pen, then wiped it briefly onto the sleeve of his flannel so it wouldn’t be wet when he handed it back to Keith. “If you realize you wanna submit, let me know, and I can give you the details.”

Keith stared at the piece of paper for a second, then took it between his fingers, opening up his journal and shutting it into there. He took his pen back, uncapping it with his mouth this time. Keith saw Lance’s eyebrows raise just a bit as he gave a small smirk.

Keith grabbed Lance’s wrist, pulling his arm closer before writing his number on Lance’s inner arm. “So you know it’s me,” Keith murmured. Lance didn’t expect this, his cheeks reddening. He’d never really gotten this far before with anybody he’s flirted with. He was fine with Keith acting flustered.

“Thanks,” Lance said, crookedly smiling at Keith. The boy’s fingers still lingered on Lance’s wrist briefly before pulling away. Keith seemed to be suppressing a smile, as if he didn’t expect himself to do anything like that either.

“I’m gonna go get myself an iced tea,” Lance said, finding that he didn’t know how else to flirt with Keith. Keith, however, was still trying to suppress a dumb smile. Lance stood from his seat, his stomach feeling weird and warm, as if he’d just downed a whole mug of lukewarm tea in ten seconds.

“Talk to you soon, then?” Keith said, opening up his journal without looking up at Lance. After he wrote something down quickly, he glanced up. Keith’s eyes seemed a deeper violet to Lance now.

“Yeah,” Lance said, smiling with his eyes.

Keith nodded, giving a small wave before going to write in his journal again. Lance turned into the café for his breakfast.

 

A few minutes later, Lance came out with his strawberry iced tea and a cinnamon bun. He looked over to his left while he walked out at the table Keith sat at, but the boy wasn’t there. He felt disappointment settle against his chest.

Lance was about to walk away when he realized there was a piece of folded paper on the table.

He looked around, but didn’t see the boy anywhere, so he walked forward a couple steps, taking the small folded piece of paper into his hand. He opened it up, and it read:

_Thanks for an interesting morning and the pretty pictures. You’re a sight yourself. —K_


	2. Chapter 2

One corner of Lance’s mouth lifted as he continued to stare at the note Keith had written. He had read it over several times before folding it up again and pocketing it, then he took a seat at the table with his iced tea and cinnamon bun.

He took his phone from his pocket, opening up his contacts to add Keith’s number in. He went to wipe the number off his arm after he finished, but at the last second, decided not to.

By the time he was halfway through with his cinnamon bun, Lance saw one of his close friends Pidge coming up the sidewalk. They were in such a rush that they didn’t see Lance sitting right by the entrance.

“Hey, Pidge!” Lance called out, and Pidge backed up from the doorway of the café, looking over to the right. They smiled widely, but looked disheveled. Normally, Pidge looked like they had bedhead, but it was worse today. Probably woke up late for their shift. Lance laughed under his breath. “You okay?”

“My shift’s at 11, and my alarm didn’t go off,” Pidge huffed, pouting. “I woke up fifteen minutes ago. Mad’s gonna kill me.”

Lance looked down at his phone, seeing that it was four minutes to 11. “Pidge, it’s fine. You got four minutes.”

“ _What?_ ” Pidge said, eyes widening. They looked down at their watch frantically. “My watch says 11:13 right now!”

“You got the wrong time on your watch, pal,” Lance said, chuckling and taking a loud sip from his almost-emptied order of strawberry iced tea. “It’s 10:56.”

Pidge adjusted their watch hastily, then looked up adjusting their glasses to glare at Lance. Their eyes flicked over to the written numbers on Lance’s right arm, raising an eyebrow. “What is _that_?”

Lance remembered Keith’s phone number on his arm, then crossed his arms, shrugging. The sides of his face and the tips of his ears began to redden. “I had to—uh—last minute. Write. Number.”

“You’re a bad liar,” Pidge said, crossing their arms and wearing a smug smile. “That’s not even your handwriting. Your handwriting’s too girly and that handwriting is practically chicken scratch.” _Damn you, Pidge, with your sharp observational skills_ , Lance thought to himself.

“Well I was writing on my skin, so _obviously_ it’s not gonna look exactly like my normally girly handwriting,” Lance lied. He didn’t exactly know why he was lying right now. Normally Lance bragged about who he flirted with. This time was different though, somehow. First of all, this one flirted _back_.

“Tell me.”

“I’m not lying, you—“

“ _Tell_.”

“You know, it’s 10:59,” Lance said, hoping Pidge would rush out of here with their dire need to be punctual.

“Fine,” Pidge said, rolling their eyes, “but you better tell me later on today, otherwise I’m making Hunk sit on you until you spit it out.”

Lance stuck his tongue out at Pidge as they snorted, shaking their head and hurrying into the café.

-

Around five o’clock, Pidge called Lance up, who had been sitting at his apartment editing the photos he took earlier.

“What’s up, Pidgeon?” Lance said, putting his phone on speaker while he continued to work on his photos.

“I’ll be at your apartment soon,” Pidge said over the phone. “My shift just ended. Hunk’s on his way too.”

“Sweet,” Lance said, clicking away at his computer screen. “See you.” 

Lance hung up the phone, then realized his right arm still had Keith’s phone number written all over it. He rose from his desk chair quickly, heading to the kitchen. He snatched a dishrag hanging from the oven handle and twisted the faucet of the sink on.

After having dampened the cloth, Lance rubbed it vigorously at the ballpoint pen ink on his arm. Luckily most of it came off after a few moments, a red, irritated cloud of his skin surrounding now barely readable pen ink. He hoped Pidge wouldn’t point it out again, but he didn’t deny that they probably would. Lance damned Pidge’s sharp observational skills again.

He went to pop a pack of popcorn in the microwave for when his friends came over, blowing on his arm so it wouldn’t feel as irritated. It kind of stung now.

Once the microwave beeped, Lance took it from the microwave, tearing it open and pouring it into a bowl. He hopped back into his the chair at his desk, spinning around once and pulling himself towards his computer. He continued editing his photos until he received a text from Pidge, saying: _here!_

Lance stood from his chair again, running to the door and closing it behind him, not bothering to lock it. A couple minutes later, he’d reached the bottom floor, noticing Pidge sitting on a bench in the foyer at the end of the hallway, swinging their legs back and forth and waiting for Lance to open the door.

Lance brought his fingers into his mouth, tucking them just under his tongue and whistling loudly, the noise resonating throughout the hallway as he walked down it. Pidge’s head jerked up, smiling as they saw Lance. Lance opened the door for them.

“Sup, Pidgeon. How was work?” he asked Pidge.

“Let’s just say I absolutely hate working on Saturdays,” Pidge sighed, hauling their large bag onto their shoulder.

“Lemme get that,” Lance said, taking it from Pidge. 

“How about you?” Pidge asked Lance. “Did you take any pictures?”

Lance recalled the pictures of Keith—his favorites from earlier today. “Yeah,” he responded, smiling fondly at the memory, “I did.”

A moment later—before Pidge could question Lance more—they heard the one of the doors of the entrance click open, so they turned around, seeing Hunk enter the foyer. He waved his hand at them, his voice echoing when he greeted the two.

Lance stepped forward to open the door for him, and Hunk immediately wrapped his arms around Lance and Pidge, pulling them both in for a hug. “Hey, Pidge, how was work?” Hunk asked, looking down at his friend. Then he turned to raise his eyebrows at Lance. “And Lance… Pidge told me there’s something up. Spill.”

Lance glared at Pidge across from him in Hunk’s embrace and Pidge offered a sheepish smile, shrugging.

When they were up in Lance’s apartment, Pidge hopped onto Lance’s bed, tucking their legs underneath themselves. Hunk grabbed the bowl of popcorn on the counter and fell into the olive green bean bag in the corner of Lance’s room. 

“So you gonna talk about it?” Hunk pestered, grinning and throwing a couple pieces of popcorn into his mouth. Lance sat at his desk again, clicking away at the screen.

Lance sighed, slumping in his chair. “Do I _have_ to?” he whined, sounding like a child speaking to his mother, who asked him to finish his housework.

“Why are you even embarrassed to talk about it?” Hunk asked, passing Pidge the bowl of popcorn.

“Yeah,” Pidge said, scooping a handful of popcorn into their hand. “You usually brag about all the people you disturb with your cheesy flirting.” They handed the bowl back to Hunk.

“Why’s your arm so red, by the way?” Hunk asked, raising an eyebrow at Lance’s inner arm, which was still a bit irritated from earlier. The ink from Keith’s pen was very faint, but visible if you paid close enough attention to it.

Pidge’s eyes widened in enthusiasm. As they were about to speak, Lance threw a pillow at them, popcorn from their hand flying everywhere. “STOP TELLING HUNK EVERYTHING,” Lance shouted.

“Well, someone’s gotta do it,” Pidge muttered, flattening their hair out and sitting up straight again while picking up the pieces of popcorn that landed on the bed. They tossed a couple in their mouth, munching and glowering at Lance.

“Now I’m curious,” Hunk said, giving Lance expectant eyes as he crossed his arms.

Lance rolled his eyes, spinning around in his chair a few times until he stopped himself after the fourth spin. His face was flushed a dark red at his cheeks as he exhaled audibly. “I got a guy’s number,” he mumbled.

“See? Wasn’t so bad, was it?” Pidge said.

“WHAT,” Hunk yelled, the bowl of popcorn jumping in his lap. A few pieces fell to the floor. Lance had been taken aback from Hunk’s reaction and his eyes had widened automatically. “All the guys you flirt with turn out to be straight. Or queer and in denial.”

“I’m going to shove my entire arm into your mouth,” Lance threatened meaninglessly, scowling at Hunk. Pidge was giggling, hiding behind a pillow in case Lance decided to attack them again.

“You’re telling us _everything_ ,” Hunk said, moving all the fallen popcorn to the side with his foot. “You’ve never reeled in a guy before.”

“I will make no promises,” Lance claimed, crossing his arms after he turned around in his chair to face his computer again.

-

Keith was pacing around the room, freaking out about his encounter with Lance to his two closest friends, Shiro and Allura, in the apartment they all shared.

Allura was on the floor next to the television, trying to choose a movie for all of them to watch from Shiro’s DVD collection, and Shiro was on the floor beside her, playing with her lightly ashy hair. Keith threw his hands up, holding the receipt Lance had written his number down on.

“No—you don’t get it—he looked so _straight!”_ Keith exclaimed. “I couldn’t believe he flirted with me at first.”

“Not everyone looks their sexuality, Keith,” Allura said to him, smiling as she was amused by the way Keith was acting.

“I don’t know how I acted the way I acted either,” Keith continued babbling. “I was so calm and collected by the end of it. And guess what I fucking did.”

Shiro and Allura both sighed in unison, saying, “What, Keith?”

“I fucking wrote my number _on him,”_ Keith said frantically. “Not on a piece of a paper, like he did—like any normal fucking person flirting with another person would. I wrote it on his _skin_.”

Shiro raised his eyebrows, releasing Allura’s hair from his hands to turn and look at Keith. “Wow, I would not have expected that from you if I was there,” he said to Keith, laughing under his breath. “What came over you?”

“I don’t know,” Keith sighed, shrugging, and finally settling down onto the couch across from the television. “It was something though. And I liked it.”

“Then you should keep at it, Keith,” Allura told him cheerfully while flashing an encouraging smile at Keith. “Or at least try. This could be your very first boyfriend if you keep at it like that.”

“It’s so stupid that I—“

“If you complain one more time about how you’re too old to have not dated yet,” Shiro interrupted, “I’m really going to kick you right in the groin, Kogane.”

“And I’ll let him,” Allura remarked, agreeing with Shiro.

Keith groaned, grabbing a couch pillow and pressing his face into it.

“You know what you should do?” Allura said softly, a hint of mischief hidden in her voice. Keith detected it and dreaded the next sentence, pressing the pillow harder into his face. “Call him.”

Keith, the pillow still pressed to his face, was silent and unmoving. Shiro looked over to Allura with a raised eyebrow. “I think you broke him,” he whispered to her.

Allura snorted, shaking her head and standing up from the floor. She approached Keith, shaking his shoulders. “Keith, I’m making you call him right now,” Allura sang. She only received a dreadful moan from the boy she was shaking. “Come on, you big baby.”

“Do I _have_ to?” Keith grumbled, his voice still muffled from the pillow.

“Hm,” Allura said. “Then, well, I guess you don’t really like him, huh?” She sighed dramatically, releasing Keith’s shoulder. “Suppose you’ll have to find another boy.”

“But I like this one,” Keith complained like a child into the pillow.

“Enough to call him right now?” Allura prodded. “Come on. Do it.” Keith heard Shiro snickering at the other side of the room.

“Fuck you guys, alright?” Keith said, lifting his head from the pillow and instead resting it back against the couch. “You suck.”

“Shiro and I can give you some privacy,” Allura said. “But we’re staying just until this boy actually picks up his phone.”

Keith replied to Allura with a distressed expression, then looked to Shiro for help, but telling from his smug smile, he was going along with Allura’s plan.

Keith muttered unintelligible things before pulling out his cell phone, then holding out the receipt Lance had written his number on. Allura clapped her hands excitedly and stepped back.

Keith’s hands shook slightly as he tapped Lance’s number into his cell phone, his thumb hovering reluctantly over the green call icon. Allura huffed impatiently, leaning forward abruptly and tapping the icon for him. Keith gasped, narrowing his eyes at Allura. Shiro snickered again, and Keith flipped him off before holding the phone up to his ear.

Though Keith’s cell phone wasn’t on speaker, the room was quiet enough for both Shiro and Allura to hear the call ringing. It clicked after twenty-one seconds, Keith counted.

“Hello?” It was Lance’s voice on the other line. Keith waved his free hand frantically at Shiro and Allura, silently urging them to leave the room as soon as possible. 

Keith’s roomies grinned at him smugly before they both left the room together, Shiro dragging Allura by her wrist so she wouldn’t be tempted to stay.

-

“Guys, fuck, it’s the guy,” Lance whispered, pointing at his phone. It rang, the name _Keith_ coming up on the screen.

Pidge tilted their head to read the name. “Keith?” they read. “And you said you met him at the café…?” Pidge’s eyes lit up in sudden recognition. “That’s the guy with the mullet who always orders plain black coffee in the mornings when I work!”

“No fucking way,” Hunk said, standing up from the bean bag he’d been sitting in. He began stuffing more popcorn into his mouth, then sat next to Pidge on Lance’s bed.

“Shit, shit—“ Lance was panicking, holding the vibrating phone in his hand. “Do I pick up?!”

“Yes!” Pidge exclaimed. “Are you stupid? Take it! Take it now!”

“Fuck, okay!” Lance said, sucking air in through his teeth before tapping his phone screen to accept the call. He held the phone up to his ear, saying, “Hello?”

Lance didn’t sound as dumb as he thought he would’ve sounded when he picked up the call. The calm slowly tried to spread throughout his body, but it faded a little when Keith’s voice came from the other line, a small “hi” sounding into Lance’s ear.

Lance’s eyes shot to Pidge’s and Hunk’s, glaring at them until they left his room. He heard them giggling before they settled in the living room.

“Hey, pretty boy,” Lance said, trying so desperately to relax. He stood from his desk chair, then fell back onto his bed beside him. He felt a little better in that position rather than sitting and fidgeting on the desk chair. “Didn’t expect you to call this early,” he added.

“Oh—“ Keith stuttered, curling up in the corner of the couch he was sitting on. “I’m sorry, is it a bad time, then?”

“Not at all, actually,” Lance responded, lifting an arm to his eyes. “Did you wanna know more about the magazine I’m in? Did you wanna submit?”

“Well—yeah,” Keith said. He felt his heart hammering in his chest, rattling against the ribs it was caged by. “Eventually.”

“Eventually?” Lance said. “So you’re not calling about the magazine?”

“Not exactly,” Keith said, unsure of himself. He saw Allura edge out of the corridor connecting the living room and their bedrooms out of the corner of his eye and he tried to stare daggers into her until she left again. 

Instead she stayed, whispering loudly from the other side of the room, “Ask him on a date! Ask him!”

Keith actually considered what Allura suggested, trying to find a way to get to that point then, if he was going to go through with it, that is. “No, I just… felt like calling somebody. I guess.”

“Smooth,” Allura whispered across the room again. Keith threw a couch pillow at her and she giggled, turning to walk away and down the corridor.

Pidge and Hunk tiptoed their way back to Lance’s bedroom doorway. They began to chant a phrase together quietly when Lance noticed them standing there: “Ask him for-a-date! Ask him for-a-date! Ask him! FOR-A—“

“Do you wanna go out with me tomorrow, pretty boy?” Lance asked, cutting them off before they got loud enough for Keith to hear on his end. The short moment of silence between that question and Keith’s answer felt like an eternity, invisible bugs seemingly drawing up and down Lance’s back and arms as he waited anxiously for Keith’s answer.

“Yeah,” Keith said, a small laugh accompanying the end of the word. Lance found it adorable and tried to suppress the heat rushing to his head by biting down onto his bottom lip. “Yeah, actually, I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“Really?” Lance asked, grinning widely enough for the tips of his mouth to practically touch the corners of his eyes. “That’s… a coincidence.”

“Yeah, a big one,” Keith said. Allura whooped from wherever she was down the corridor, and Keith prayed Lance didn’t hear. “What did you wanna do?”

“I don’t know, honestly,” Lance sighed. His bottom lip felt a little sore from biting down too hard. “Maybe we can meet at the café where we met earlier today?” he suggested. “Whenever you’re free.”

“Breakfast? Same time we saw each other today?” Keith asked.

“Perfect,” Lance replied.

“See you then?”

“I’ll see you,” Lance said, his grin calming to a soft and genuine smile. “It’s a date.”

“It’s… a date,” Keith said, his lips pressed together in an excited smile. From the sound of his voice, Lance could tell the boy on the other line was blushing. “Goodnight, Lance.”

Lance felt his chest light with air, tickling him happy. “Night, Keith.”


	3. Chapter 3

Lance’s alarm woke him at 10.

He stretched his arms out beside him, pushing up the sleep mask he wore every night onto his forehead. Pidge groaned awake. They were sitting in Lance’s computer chair, having fallen asleep on the desk last night while on their laptop. Hunk was still snoring away on the sofa bed in the living room. It normally took something like a herd of charging elephants to wake him in the morning.

Lance propped himself up, leaning on both of his elbows. “Pidge,” he said, yawning before continuing, “fell asleep while on your laptop again?” He laughed, the sound low and scratchy in his throat from just having woken up.

Pidge made a noise of complaint, trying to twist around in the computer chair to stretch out their back. “As per usual,” they grumbled, straightening out their glasses as well. “Why do you have an alarm set? Don’t you sleep in when you don’t have work?”

Lance suddenly remembered why he had set an alarm and his eyes widened, then he felt a strange and excited tingle dance its way up his spine and through his limbs. “I have a date,” he said, as if he was confirming it to himself. One tip of his mouth propped up. “I’m going on a date!”

“In the _morning?”_ Pidge said, raising an eyebrow and yawning again. “Weird, but okay—I’m sleeping on your bed while you’re gone.”

Lance slipped out of bed abruptly, a sudden energy bursting from him. “Whatever, I’m going on a _date!_ Look at me! Honestly, I’m surprised I hadn’t been asked sooner—“

“ _You_ asked _him_ , Lance.”

“He said he was gonna ask me the same thing, though, after I asked him.” Lance crossed his arms, smiling smugly at Pidge as if he accomplished something stupendous.

Pidge rolled their eyes, standing from the computer chair and removing their glasses from their face. They walked a couple steps before falling face-first onto Lance’s bed. “Just get ready for your date, Lance,” Pidge mumbled, their voice muffled from the sheets.

“Thought so,” Lance said, chin up and grinning. He leaned forward to ruffle Pidge’s already-disheveled hair, then rushed into the bathroom before they did something about it.

 

Within record time, Lance shot out of the bathroom, a green towel hanging loosely from his hips. He was rubbing a smaller towel into his wet hair and opened up the closet in his room. After bugging Pidge about what to wear for twenty minutes straight, Lance settled on wearing black jeans and a white tank layered with a jean button-up, leaving it open.

He looked himself up and down in the mirror for a couple minutes, rolling up his sleeves then nodding. “Is it okay, Pidge?” he asked without looking back. 

Pidge glowered at Lance before covering their head with a pillow. “Yes, Lance, you look absolutely stunning.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Lance said before slipping his feet into a pair of tan ankle boots. 

Pidge peeked their head out from under the pillow, resembling a tired puppy. “Let me sleep.”

Lance grabbed his keys and camera off the nightstand beside his bed, then sighed dramatically at Pidge. “Yeah, yeah—“

“You’re bringing your camera?”

“Oh,” Lance said, not even realizing he’d been taking it. He usually just grabbed it whenever he went out, but then he thought about it and realized it wasn’t that bad of an idea. “Well, why not? He’s pretty.”

“True.”

“Hey,” Lance warned, pointing a finger at Pidge. “This one’s mine.”

“One: I’m only almost fifteen,” Pidge began, glaring at Lance again. “Two: he doesn’t seem like my type, and three: I can appreciate how he looks without falling to my knees.”

“I’m not falling to my knees!”

“Didn’t say you were,” Pidge said, a small and complacent smile pinching at the corners of their mouth. “But you might as well be, to be honest.”

Lance stared Pidge down for a couple moments before snatching up their pillow and pressing it onto their face again. “Okay, I’m going,” Lance said, giggling a little afterward when he heard a surprised squeak come from Pidge. “And don’t use my sleep mask or I’ll kill you,” he told Pidge before going to leave the apartment.

-

Lance felt stupid for having a grin plastered on his face all the way to the café, but he supposed that was a normal thing, right? It’s not like this was his first date, but it sure felt like it for some weird reason. He almost felt like a naive and experimental thirteen year old.

Lance kept fingering the strap of his camera nervously, his palms slightly sweaty. These pre-date butterflies wouldn’t be going away anytime soon.

After another minute or two of walking, he was on the same block of the café, but as he looked over to his left, he saw Keith through the window of a bookstore, which was only a couple stores down from the café. He was looking at a small shelf of leather journals—of course—holding a couple in his arms while he looked flipped through one. 

It still was kind of early, Lance noticed after checking the time on his phone. Keith had probably gone there to kill some time.

Even though it was still warm as they were closely approaching autumn, Keith had been wearing an oversized burgundy cardigan layered atop a black tee. His jeans were a washed-out gray, and he wore boots that looked similar to Lance’s, except they were black. When he turned his head, Lance saw that he was wearing a gray beanie, his hair sticking out messily from under it with his glasses resting right on top.

Lance’s fingers itched to take a picture of him again. He looked even better compared to yesterday—so good that Lance felt a brief pang in his chest. The best part was that he still wore those dumb fingerless gloves.

Lance tried to stand so his back was facing the bookstore for now, flipping the switch to turn his camera on. As he removed the cap to the lens, he turned around subtly so he wouldn’t draw attention to himself since Keith was right at the window inside.

Lance brought the camera to his face, squinting to make sure he was holding the right angle. He pressed his index finger lightly against the button to take the picture, and half a second later the flash went off. Lance cursed under his breath—he usually was careful about the flash being on when he took pictures in public. Keith’s head had tipped up abruptly from staring at the journals due to the sudden light.

Keith’s eyes met Lance’s and his face immediately reddened. He fumbled with the journals he was holding in his arms, setting them down back on the shelf. Lance felt the warmth gathering in his cheeks after being caught taking Keith’s picture, but at least Keith looked more embarrassed, Lance thought to himself with a small smile.

Lance was still standing there and waved at Keith. Keith waved back, ruffling the front of his hair with his hand before pointing towards the door to indicate he’d leave.

A couple moments later, Keith was meeting Lance outside the bookstore, not as red as before but still slightly pink. “Trying to sneak a pic again, huh?” Keith said, trying to start conversation. 

Lance hadn’t realized he wasn’t saying anything, staring at Keith the entire time. He forced his eyes to wander elsewhere as he gave a small laugh before flipping his camera to its off setting. “Sorry, I didn’t realize my flash was on,” he replied to Keith, letting the camera hang off his neck as he scratched at the back of his neck nervously. “It would have been a pretty good picture if I remembered to turn the flash off.”

“Did—“ Keith cleared his throat before continuing “Did you want to…? Take it? I could pose for you if you want.”

Lance held Keith’s eyes with his for just a couple seconds before responding. “That’s really nice of you, pretty boy,” he said.

“Alright, c’mon,” Keith said, turning to go back inside. “Taking them from inside’s probably better.”

They walked into the bookstore together and Lance glanced around. “Y’know, I’ve been living around this area for a couple years, and I haven’t stepped foot here at all.”

Keith turned to face Lance, a disbelieving expression on his face. “Do you read?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Lance squinted slightly as if there was a right answer to this question. “…No?” he answered. “Do comic books count?”

“You’ve never read a real book in your life?” Keith was wide-eyed.

“Hey,” Lance said, crossing his arms. “Comic books are real books. That’s why they’re called comic _books_.”

“Nope.”

“What do you mean _‘nope’?”_ Lance asked, confused, but he was amused at the same time watching how distraught Keith seemed at the fact that Lance hadn't read "real" books often.

“I’m gonna show you _real_ books,” Keith said, taking Lance’s wrist in his hand. Lance didn’t expect the sudden contact, looking down at his wrist as he was dragged along deeper into the bookstore by his date.

“There are thousands of people out there who agree that comic books are real books,” Lance retorted and Keith snorted.

“And I can guarantee you that a hundred percent of those people agreeing with you are comic book readers,” Keith told Lance, his hand still holding onto his date’s wrist as they stopped in front of the Science Fiction/Fantasy section towards the back of the bookstore.

“Okay, whatever you say, Mister Sophisticated Writer.”

“That was a horrible nickname,” Keith said, frowning. “Stick with ‘pretty boy’.”

Lance began to smile and went to look over at Keith, but Keith looked away at the last second, shifting his eyes to the books in front of him. He pulled out a couple books from the shelves, handing them over to Lance. Eventually, Keith had to take his glasses from his hair, positioning them onto his face.

Lance stepped back a second, subtly removing the cap from his camera when he observed how concentrated Keith was in picking out titles for Lance.

Lance made sure he turned the setting of the camera so it wouldn’t flash, then brought the object to his face. The camera clicked and Lance smiled in a satisfied manner after he looked down at the picture he’d taken.

Keith looked over and his glasses had slipped halfway down the bridge of his nose. “You could just tell me to pose for you, you know,” he said. A smile tugged at the side of his mouth as he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and returned to searching for more books for Lance.

Lance looked down at the two books Keith had given him so far, and he recognized one of them as a movie that had come out a couple years ago. “You like sci-fi?”

“Well, we _are_ in the Sci-fi section,” Keith responded, crouching down to the bottom shelf to look at more titles. “I’m pretty much a sci-fi junkie.”

“Well, I am too, pretty boy.” Lance was smirking when Keith looked up at him, arching an eyebrow. “Just sci-fi comics.”

“That gives me more of a reason to make you read some of these,” Keith said with a grin. “Next is the Horror section.”

“That’s… probably not a good idea,” Lance suggested, laughing awkwardly.

“What?” Keith said, repositioning himself into a kneeling position. He wore an amused expression. “You scared?”

Lance snorted, waving a hand. “No,” he began. “Horror just makes me… uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable as in scared, right?”

“Wrong.” Keith raised his eyebrows and Lance sighed. “Maybe.” Lance covered part of his face with his hand. The tips of his ears reddened. “Impressive, aren’t I?”

“Cute,” Keith said instead, offering Lance a small smile. “Would you rather promise me you’ll read a horror novel or watch a horror movie?”

“Definitely a novel instead.”

“Alright,” Keith said, throwing another book into Lance’s lap before standing up again. “Doesn’t matter anyway because you’ll be doing both.”

Lance laughed, standing from the floor as well. “Assuming we go out a second time…”

Keith looked back at him incredulously. “I know we haven’t known each other long, but I think the both of us know we’re going out a second time.” He grabbed Lance’s hand instead of his wrist, catching Lance off guard again. “Now off to the Horror section.”

“How about the Comic Book section?” Lance offered, hoping that Keith would abide. His date rolled his eyes, reflecting a dark violet through his glasses, then he nodded, letting Lance lead him off somewhere instead.

“Do you know where the comics are?” Keith asked, chuckling under his breath.

“Considering I have never stepped foot into this store,” Lance said as he glanced around for something that would indicate where to find the comics, “no.”

Keith sighed, pulling Lance along. “I do. C’mon.” After a walking to the opposite side of the store, Keith let go of Lance’s hand, gesturing to the comics he led him to. “Go wild.”

“Wait,” Lance said, his eyes meeting Keith’s. “How do you know where the comics are if the books you read are all the way on the other side?”

Keith’s eyes widened slightly, and he licked his lips before answering. “I swear that I don’t read comics,” he told Lance. For the record, he _was_ telling the truth.

Lance’s expression was doubtful as he wore a smug smile, venturing towards the shelves of comics. _Please don’t turn around, please don’t turn around, please—_

Lance turned to face the other side of the shelves, wanting to see if there were more comics available there. And there were. Sort of.

Lance’s smug smile grew into a wide, shit-eating grin. He uttered one loud laugh, pointing at the manga books lining the shelves in front of him. “This is why you know where this section is, don’t you?” he asked, knowing the answer already from the way Keith looked.

Keith’s neck and cheeks flared as he went to pinch the sides of his beanie with his fingers, pulling it down over his face. “I’d appreciate if you didn’t judge a pleasure as guilty as this one,” he muttered to Lance, who was still laughing.

Keith felt Lance’s hands against his, which were still gripping his beanie and holding it down over his face. Lance lifted the beanie up and out of Keith’s eyes. “Next time,” Lance said, smiling softly now, “just own up to it.” Then he stretched the beanie back, letting it slap back over Keith’s eyes. “Thought you could keep up this intellectual bookworm facade, pretty boy?” Lance laughed again. “I was onto you.”

Keith cracked a smile and nudged Lance away from him. “At least I tried.”

Lance rolled his eyes, then turned back around to look through the comic books on the shelves. He paused, furrowing his eyebrows very slightly while brushing past the bunches of comic book titles on the shelves. Every once in a while he would go "Aha!" or "Yes, yes, yes" when he found the comics he was looking for, as Keith waited patiently for him to finish.

After a few minutes, Lance was holding about four comic books in his hand, then nodded, refraining from choosing more. He smiled widely like a child after turning his head to look over at Keith, then handed them over to him. “Your homework: read all of those before our next date.”

Keith raised his eyebrows at Lance, but he wore a small smile before looking down to shuffle through them, then he began flipping through some of the pages. Lance stepped forward abruptly to slap the comics shut. “You’re gonna spoil it if you do that!” he scolded. Keith snorted. “Gimme those,” Lance muttered, taking them back in his hands and handing Keith the sci-fi novels that he’d given him earlier.

Lance stood there, looking at the comics he’d chosen, then his eyes flicked up to Keith’s. “What?” Keith said. Instead of answering, Lance bolted past Keith.

For a couple seconds, Keith was confused as to why he ran, but then realized what was happening. Keith began running after Lance. He was running after his date. In a bookstore. This is a nice way to start a first date.

Keith was too late, seeing as Lance was at the counter already, handing the cashier his card. Lance looked over, winking at Keith as the cashier swiped the card hurriedly.

Keith glared at his date as the cashier finished ringing him up, handing Lance a plastic bag with the comic books in them. Lance nodded a thank you for the cashier, then stepped away to give the bag to Keith. “For you, pretty boy,” Lance said, wearing a slight close-lipped smile.

Keith took the comic books, then stepped up to the cashier, handing over his card as well. Lance only rolled his eyes, watching the cashier bag the books and hand them over to Keith.

Keith grabbed Lance’s wrist, sticking his hand through the holes of the plastic bags. “There. Now we’re even,” Keith said, a look of semi-triumph on his face.

“We’ll see,” Lance responded, walking towards the exit of the bookstore.

Keith looked into his bag, wanting to see exactly what comic books Lance had chosen for him. They were all sci-fi themed, but then there was a journal hidden between the comics—it was one of the leather ones he’d been looking at before Lance saw him through the window.

Keith felt something small and warm blossom throughout his chest as he trailed behind Lance, but then he tried to compose himself, adjusting his beanie. He glanced up to see if Lance was looking, which he was. Keith bowed his head, his grin widening without him wanting it to.

“Like it?” Lance said, facing forward again. He held the door open for a very flustered Keith. “I was already buying the comics, so I figured why not.”

“Yeah,” Keith said, smiling outwardly at Lance now and combing through the front of his hair with his fingers. It seemed to be a nervous habit of his, Lance observed. He wanted to take a picture of him doing it, but decided against it right now. “I’m almost done filling up my other journal, so I just wanted to buy a nicer one to write it for once. So thank you.”

“Then I’m glad,” Lance responded. He looked over down to the buzzing café they met at last morning and gestured towards it. “Want some breakfast?”

Keith met Lance’s eyes, nodding, but then he smiled. “But we’re taking it to go. I wanna show you something.”

 

Ten minutes later, they came out of the café with soufflés, cinnamon buns, and drinks. Lance walked in front of Keith again to hold open the door for him. “Okay, come on,” Keith said, carrying a paper to-go bag in one hand and a black coffee in the other. Lance was holding the same, except an iced tea instead of a coffee.

Lance let Keith lead the way down the street. They walked together, discussing things from their favorite colors to politics to their majors.

“Where are we going, Keith?” Lance asked him after ten minutes of following Keith without questioning him.

“One more block,” Keith said, sipping at his coffee.

After said block, Keith slowed down in front of a clothing store Lance had no idea how to pronounce, so he never tried to. He raised an eyebrow at Keith, but he only jerked his head slightly towards the store, urging him to follow.

Keith attempted to pull open the door to the shop even with both his hands occupied, so Lance clamped his own paper to-go bag between his teeth. He stepped in front of Keith, pulling open the door for him.

“You’re just the gentleman of the day today, aren’t you,” Keith mumbled while heading inside the shop. Lance laughed around the paper bag in response, following Keith inside.

Lance removed the bag from his mouth, going to speak again. “Okay, why are we here?” he asked, confused.

Keith shushed him. “Just follow me,” he responded, then he shouted across the store. “Hey, Karina! I’m just headed upstairs, okay? Got a friend with me.”

“A friend?” both Lance and the girl Keith had been speaking to said simultaneously.

She was a petite girl hanging clothes up towards the back of the store, but looked about their age, had a Hispanic-like complexion, and was very, _very_ pretty. Lance’s eyes almost bulged out of his head, but then he remembered that he was on a date with Keith.

“Hi, I’m Lance,” Lance introduced, offering a smile when both he and Keith neared the girl.

“Karina,” she said, smiling back, but then she focused on Keith again. “Keith,” she began, speaking almost the way an older sister would. “You never told me you were bringing a friend here. The last time you wanted to bring somebody upstairs was months ago.”

Keith’s cheeks turned a reddish hue before he turned to the doorway a few paces away from them. “Bye, Karina!” Keith said, avoiding to continue the conversation.

Keith was the one instead to open the door, having tucked his paper to-go bag against him with his arm. Lance walked in before him and Keith followed, sighing and shutting the door behind him. Lance pulled the paper bag from Keith’s mouth, arching a brow. “A friend? Really?”

“We all knew what I meant by friend,” Keith said, ambling down the hallway the door brought them to. 

At the end of the hallway was a stairway leading upwards into a dark space Lance couldn’t see through. He glanced over at Keith and gave him a look of uncertainty. “Is this where you murder me in secret with your really hot but masochistic assistant?” Lance inquired, joking and not joking at the same time. He did, after all, only meet this boy yesterday. So he really had no idea.

Keith began laughing, turning around, and for a moment Lance was terrified, but he realized his date was genuinely amused in a very non-evil way. His eyes were pinched shut due to his giggly grin taking up as much of his face as it could. Lance reached for his camera almost instinctively, but the moment passed before he could capture it.

“You really are afraid of horror, huh?” Keith said. He backed up so that he was beside Lance. “Just trust me.”

Lance sighed, letting Keith continue walking so he could follow him. They had walked up four flights of stairs before reaching another door. Lance was quite out of breath, but Keith wasn’t really breaking much of a sweat.

“Through here,” Keith said, opening the door in front of them.

The sun streamed in through the doorway like water, bright and warm as it hit Lance’s skin. The light haloed around Keith, making him look even more beautiful than when Lance had first seen him. 

“Stay right there,” he said to Keith, setting his drink and bags on the floor before switching his camera on and lifting it to his face after removing the lens cover. Keith looked surprised, not really knowing what to do for Lance and for the camera. He set down his drink and bag of comic books. 

“Look to the side if you’re too uncomfortable with looking at the camera, pretty boy,” Lance said quietly. “Don’t look so stressed.”

Keith did as Lance said, looking off to the side for the picture. Half a second after he’d moved, Lance snapped several pictures in a row. Keith was about to move again when he felt Lance’s fingers against his jaw, tilting his chin up and to the side. His touch was lighter and softer and more careful than anyone else’s he’s felt before.

Keith’s eyes shifted over gradually to Lance’s, whose eyes widened as he pulled his hand back and averted his gaze. “Oh, shit—sorry. I always forget to ask if it’s okay to touch my models,” Lance mumbled, slapping a hand onto his forehead. “I’ve done this several times, and it’s always resulted in a slap in the face or a—“

“Hey,” Keith interrupted, trying to make eye contact with Lance. The photographer boy stopped avoiding Keith’s gaze, eyes still slightly wider than normal. “I’m okay with it. Don’t worry.” He positioned himself again the way Lance had begun to position him before. “Is this how you wanted me?”

Lance’s mouth upturned in a close-lipped smile before he lifted his hand again to adjust Keith’s head. It was so quiet in the stairway that Lance heard his model’s soft breathing as he let his fingers slide from under Keith’s jaw to his lips. “Leave this open,” Lance whispered, as if he spoke any louder it’d disrupt everything he’d been doing. “Just a little.” His thumb brushed against Keith’s bottom lip and it opened just the right amount. “Will you bring your eyes down a little for me?”

Keith did as he was told and Lance wore a satisfied smile, pulling his hand back to bring his camera back onto his face. “Right there, you’re perfect,” Lance said to his model, and at the last second Keith smiled at his comment. The camera shutter followed.

“Shit, I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to smile,” Keith said, his eyes widening just like Lance’s had a couple minutes ago. “You can take it again if you—“

Lance shushed Keith as he looked down at his camera. “This is probably the best picture I’ve taken in a _while_ ,” he said both to himself and Keith. “Wow.”

Lance continued to stare at the screen of his camera, his date’s profile perfect against the sunlight that had been coming through the doorway. The light was almost shining through Keith’s accidental smile, and breaking past his eyelashes. Lance wondered how his violet eyes looked with the sun beaming directly on them.

“Do you wanna take one without the smile?” Keith asked.

“No, no, your eyes,” Lance replied. Keith raised an eyebrow, confused with the unfinished statement. “I wanna photograph your eyes in the sun. Have you ever seen them in the sun? They’d look fucking beautiful. I mean, they’re _purple_. We gotta do this.” 

Keith’s face flared in flustered warmth at Lance’s compliment. The photographer boy picked up all the stuff he set on the floor from before, then jerked his chin towards the doorway, indicating that Keith should go through first.

Keith picked up his coffee and bag of comics from the floor as well, then walked out the doorway.

It brought them onto the roof of the building they had been in earlier. It overlooked a lot of downtown, and Lance also noticed that there was a blanket pinned down with two patio-like chairs. There was a small table in front of the chairs, and there seemed to be pillows peeking out from the sides of the chairs.

For a second, Lance thought that Keith had set this up just for him, but his mind flashed back to that girl Karina. _The last time you wanted to bring somebody upstairs was months ago._

“I come up here a lot to relax,” Keith said, the faint breeze of early autumn softening his voice. “It’s a good place to stay when I wanna write or read or anything like that.” Lance saw that Keith started combing down the front of his hair again with his fingers. “And I figured you’d wanna see it since it has a pretty good view ‘cause you’re a photographer and all.”

“Wish I had a cozy spot like this,” Lance said, half to himself, as he walked towards the edge of the roof, leaning his elbows against it. Keith trailed behind him, letting him take everything in. He leaned against the edge of the roof with his elbows like Lance was, bending at his waist slightly. “I wish my landlord would let me go to my apartment’s roof, but he doesn’t ‘cause he’s an ass.”

“Well, if you’re not here just to take pictures of me,” Keith began, a slight bitterness taking to his tone, “then you can come up here with me whenever you’d like.”

Lance was caught off guard by the first half of the statement, straightening up from leaning against the edge of the roof. “Hey,” he said, side-stepping towards Keith so that he’d catch his attention. 

Keith looked over at Lance, snorting softly. “Just kidding,” he said half-heartedly.

“I’d love having you as a regular model, Keith,” Lance said, only a few inches from Keith. “But that’s not the only thing I see you as.”

Keith’s hair was blown into his eyes due to the soft breeze, and it seemed to be annoying him, so Lance suggested he put it up again.

He obliged, removing his beanie and tucking his glasses into his shirt instead of his hair. He pulled all his dark hair back and away from his face, stretching a hair tie from his wrist to keep it up. The sun was still strong above them, shining into Keith’s eyes. They gleamed like amethyst crystals.

“Hey, Keith?” Lance said. In response, Keith’s eyes flitted to his date’s. “Your eyes… Will you let me photograph them?”

Keith stared at him for a couple seconds blankly, but a small smile grew from his lips slowly. He nodded at Lance in reply to his question, who beamed in thanks.

Lance leaned closer to Keith, lifting a hand to fix the hair still in his eyes despite having pulled most of it back in a ponytail. The photographer boy’s fingers were warm against Keith’s skin as they brushed at the untamed stands of hair. After another second, Lance stopped fixing Keith’s hair to work on his position.

Lance tilted Keith’s chin up again like he had before. “Look out this time instead of down,” he whispered, still continuing with his adjustments. His thumb found Keith’s bottom lip again, brushing down against it so he’d leave it open. Keith licked his lips out of habit, accidentally licking Lance’s thumb for a brief moment.

There was a soft “oh” from Keith as he covered his mouth. “Sorry,” he said to Lance, slightly embarrassed and becoming a shade of pink at his cheeks.

Lance’s mouth only curved into a smile, taking Keith’s hand away from his own mouth.

The photographer boy kept his gentle hold on his date’s chin, carefully moving it so the sun would hit Keith’s eyes perfectly. Lance smiled to himself when he got the angle correct, bringing his camera up to his face a moment after. “Look right at the lens, okay?” Keith did so, and it gave Lance something like goosebumps up and down his arms and neck. They practically glowed under the sun’s rays, and Lance picked out small brown flecks harboring the pupil.

The photographer boy laughed once, quietly. “You’re a piece of art, pretty boy, you know that?” he said, and this time Keith’s facial features stayed the same except for his eyes. They softened somehow—by some degree. Lance knew that there’d been an edge to them before. Maybe it’d come back and maybe not, but either way they were worth photographing.

Lance’s camera clicked two, three, then four times before stopping. He brought the object away from his face without looking down at the screen for once. Instead of on the lens, Keith’s violet eyes were on Lance’s.

“Told ya,” Keith said quietly enough where Lance almost barely heard it. “Here just for the pictures.”

Lance’s eyebrows drew together when he realized the insecurity within Keith. Finally, Keith was the one who broke the eye contact as he folded his hands in front of him when he leaned on his elbows again against the roof’s edge. He began to pay attention to picking at the fabric of his fingerless gloves, taking his bottom lip between his teeth.

Lance never did this, but for some reason he felt the desire to reassure Keith swell in his chest. So he reached out abruptly, cupping the right side of Keith’s face before leaning in. Lance brushed his thumb over Keith’s mouth again so he’d release his bottom lip from between his teeth, then he closed in the rest of the space between the both of them, pressing his lips to his date’s as gently as possible.

Lance’s eyes were closed as Keith’s were wide open, but they eventually shut when Lance’s free hand slipped onto Keith’s hip, pulling him just a little closer. The photographer boy heard his date catch his breath, so he smiled against his lips, pulling back just enough.

“Now, to do that again,” Lance murmured, “there’d have to be a second date.”

“Second date starts now,” Keith said, his hands between their nearly-touching chests before he pulled Lance in to kiss him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys, i wanna say i'm terribly sorry for the long wait. but to make up for that, this chapter's super long. i think it's double the length of the first two chapters to this mini fic so :) unfortunately, this will be the last chapter to this little au, but i had so much fun writing it!! soon, i'm probably going to write more klance au's in either mini fic/one shot/full fic form!! so i hope you're as excited as i am. thank you for reading and loving this au guys, your comments and feedback made me a very happy girl. if you wanna keep up with when i'll be writing and publishing stuff, follow my voltron twitter @kogxne!! i hope you enjoy this chapter!  
> love,  
> gwen xoxo

**Author's Note:**

> I dunno if I should continue this or make a bunch of cute one-shots in one collection so let me know what you think!! I hope you enjoyed, friends :)


End file.
